<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Memories by jordanna01</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192783">Memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanna01/pseuds/jordanna01'>jordanna01</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Spinoff of The Girl Next Door, kinda sad but its okay, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25192783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanna01/pseuds/jordanna01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dolokhov and Anatole are hanging out in Anatole's new room. The Gala is happening downstairs, but the boys just want to have a moment to themselves. Anatole finds a Polaroid picture of them two, and the memories start to flood back in. </p><p> </p><p>(Takes place during chapter 3 of The Girl Next Door)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fyodor "Fedya" Ivanovich Dolokhov/Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Walking into Anatole’s bedroom, Dolokhov noticed many things. First off the room was nearly empty, just a bed against the back wall and a television placed in the middle of the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“I don't have a stand yet to set the TV on, so the floor will have to do for now.” </p><p>Anatole picked up the television remote that was laying beside the TV, and clicked on the device. </p><p>
  <em> Law and Order: SVU  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Anatole and his favorite show.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov noticed the big, golden chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It had long spikes that pointed in every which way, with tiny light bulbs attached the ends of it. The light fixture formed a sphere-ish shape. It was quite elegant. Dolokhov wondered how much more beautiful it would look in the dark. </p><p> </p><p>“You're just gonna stare around my room and not say anything? Weirdo.” </p><p>Anatole said, smiling. </p><p> </p><p>“Huh? Oh sorry, just lost in my thoughts. Your chandelier is wonderful.” He marveled at the sight. </p><p> </p><p>“Helene didn't want it. She said <em> ‘it was too much’. </em>But I think it's just enough.” </p><p> </p><p>Behind Anatole, he saw a few boxes with the word ‘FRAGILE’ written on them in black sharpie. The boxes were scattered around the side wall, and the contents of them spilled over. He could partially see some of the items. </p><p>
  <em> Books </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Clothes </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Pillows </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blankets </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Though one of the boxes in particular looked a bit odd. Picture frames poured out the top of the cardboard box. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, what's those over there?” Dolokhov pointed to the box with the picture frames. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh those are just my pictures.” He got up from the bed, and reached a hand inside the box. </p><p> </p><p>He pulled out a picture of a younger him and Helene at a beach. Anatole posed for the camera, while Helene seemed more focused on her sandcastle. </p><p> </p><p>“Always ready for the camera.” Dolokhov chuckled, handing the picture back to Anatole. </p><p>“You'll never catch me not ready for the camera.” He smiled, putting the photo back into the box. </p><p> </p><p>He reached for another one.</p><p>“Look! This is one of me and you!” He huddled next to Dolokhov, leaning in to show him the picture. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov remembered this day perfectly. The shop was just about to close, and the day was a rather busy one. Apparently the Starbucks a few minutes down the road from them’s coffee machine had broken down, leaving many unhappy customers. The line was so long, Dolokhov had to put out chairs for people to sit down outside. Just as the store was about to shut down, in came Anatole with his Polaroid camera. </p><p> </p><p>“First busy day of the summer, how does it feel Fedya?!” </p><p>He snuck a picture of the man at the counter, cleaning the coffee beans out of the machine.</p><p> </p><p>“Tiring. I'm so ready to sleep.”</p><p>The boy was exhausted. He nearly served 200 customers that day. He wanted nothing more than to make himself a cup of coffee to keep his energy up, but his boss was really on him with the whole customer influx, so he had to endure the exhaustion. </p><p> </p><p>“Aw but you see, I bought this new Polaroid camera…” He held up the camera to show Dolokhov, who was now wiping down the counter. </p><p> </p><p>“...and I wanted to have a photo shoot with you.” Anatole hopped up on the counter. Dolokhov gave him a <em> ‘really man??’ </em>kind of look. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe tomorrow Anatole. My feet are killing me, and I have so many coffee stains on my jeans. I'm not camera ready, not in the slightest. And plus Doreen would kill me if I left right now, you know how she is.”</p><p>Dolokhov untied his apron, and set it on the coat rack. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole hopped down from the counter top. </p><p>“Yes, but…” </p><p>He drawled on<em> ‘but’. </em></p><p> </p><p>“You could say they're promotional photos. Ya know to hype up the shop. And with starbucks next door, you would do great with these photos.” </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov considered the idea as he wiped down the counter, <em> again.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“The photo’s would be too small. It's useless.” </p><p>Dolokhov said, looking at the blonde boy in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh you don't think I thought of that? You could put the Polaroids in the front of the books, so when people go to read a book, they'll have a picture of their lovely barista waiting for them. Plus you could also get some yarn and clothespins and hang them up by the lights. I think it fits well with the vibes of the store.”</p><p>Anatole looked around at the lights hanging from the ceiling, visualizing his apropos vision. </p><p> </p><p>Okay, Dolokhov had to admit that, that was a pretty good idea. A great way to make customers come back, and not fly off to their competition down the street. And despite that day being one of the worst in terms of busy-ness, it was one of the best in revenue. These promo pictures could be a good thing…</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you sold me.” Dolokhov threw up his arms in defeat. </p><p>“It's a great idea.”</p><p> </p><p>Anatole smiled wide at his friend (whom he wished was more than his friend).</p><p> </p><p>“So is that yes to the photoshoot tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, I don't know. There's still a lot I have to do. Count tips, count the register, talk to Doreen...if you’ll be here still by 8 o’clock, maybe we can have the photoshoot then?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Anatole glanced at his watch. </p><p>
  <em> 6:43 </em>
</p><p>That was a long time to wait, but if it meant he got to spend some time with Fedya, he was willing to wait. </p><p> </p><p>“I'll be around. Just shoot me a text when you're ready.” </p><p> </p><p>They hugged each other as they said their goodbyes. Anatole could smell how bad Dolokhov reeked with coffee scent. And Dolokhov could smell the lavender scented hair product in Anatole’s hair. </p><p>
  <em> Did he really get all dressed up for him? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Anatole left the shop, and headed down main street. </p><p>Dolokhov then opened up his register with a wide, wide grin on his face. </p><p> </p><p>=====</p><p> </p><p>At 8:15, (the meeting with Doreen went on longer than expected), Dolokhov opened up his phone, and texted the boy. </p><p> </p><p><b>Fedya: </b>Hey Anatole, im down for the photo shoot now. </p><p> </p><p>The message showed as read, and bubbles began to bob up and down on his screen. </p><p><b>Tole:</b> Im right outside, sitting on the bench. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov made his way outside, to see Anatole sitting on the bench across the street, polaroid camera in hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so I was thinking we could take a picture of you leaning against this brick wall right here.” </p><p>Anatole pointed to the general area of which he wanted Dolokhov to stand. </p><p> </p><p>“Doreen didn't like the idea, Tole.” Unsure of what to do with his hands, he put them in the pocket of his jacket. </p><p> </p><p>“But, you said you were down with the photo shoot? I don't understand.” Anatole looked back between him and the brick wall. </p><p> </p><p>Not wanting to disappoint Anatole, Dolokhov had a plan. Since Doreen disapproved of the promo shoot - for reasons Dolokhov didn't understand - he decided that instead of having a promotional shoot for the shop, he and Anatole just have a photo shoot for themselves. </p><p> </p><p>“We can have our own photo shoot. Nobodies on the road right now. How about you stand in the street and I take a low shot of you looking upwards?”</p><p>Dolokhov walked towards the empty gray street. </p><p> </p><p>Usually around this time main street would be packed, but it was so hot that day, nobody wanted to be outside. </p><p> </p><p>Stunned at his choice of words, Anatole gasped. </p><p>“Low shot? Fedya, when did you learn cinematography language?” </p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn't shut up about it when we were watching Breaking Bad that one time at your house.”</p><p>Dolokhov stood in the street. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole saw the way his hair flowed in the light summer breeze of the night. How the stop light illuminated his face with a red hue. The ambient sounds of crickets chirping and cars rolling down the highway added to the beauty of this already perfect night. </p><p>He didn't care that Doreen rejected his suggestion, all he cared about was the boy in front of him. </p><p>Anatole walked over to hand Dolokhov the light blue polaroid camera. </p><p>He showed him the different settings, and how to extend the lens. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov then instructed him on where to stand. </p><p>Anatole made various poses at the camera. </p><p> </p><p>“That one's perfect Tole! Stay just like that!” Dolokhov snapped the picture.</p><p> </p><p>It slid out of the thin hole at the top, and Dolokhov grabbed it with the edge of his finger. </p><p>He shook the photo, waiting for it to print. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole stepped beside him, eagerly waiting for the picture as well. </p><p> </p><p>Soon the photo revealed itself. Anatole looked upwards to the black sky. His jawline fully present, and his hair ragged from the breeze. Where Anatole was looking, was a bright red splotch of light created by the nearby stop light. It looked like a comet, coming right for him. </p><p> </p><p>“It's beautiful.” Anatole said, marveling at the picture in Dolokhov’s hand.</p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov turned his head from the picture to face Anatole, a small smile on his face.</p><p>“Yeah, it is.”</p><p> </p><p>He really wished he could tell him, but what if he didn't like him back or only thought of him as a friend? Or worse, what if he didn't like men at all? </p><p> </p><p>“You're a great photographer Fedya. Now lets see how you do in front of the camera!”</p><p>Anatole grabbed the camera from Dolokhov’s hand and walked a little ways off into the sidewalk. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes found a small potted tree, and he called for Fedya to come over to it. </p><p> </p><p>“You lean against that, but look straight ahead, not at the camera.” </p><p>Anatole directioned, to which Fedya complied. </p><p> </p><p>“Like this?” </p><p>He posed against the tree. </p><p> </p><p>“Perfect. Don't move.” He snapped the picture, and like the last one, it slid out of the hole at the top. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov glanced at Anatole who then grabbed the photo and patiently waited for it to print out. </p><p> </p><p>“So you're not supposed to shake it?” He said, walking over to him. </p><p> </p><p>“It's unnecessary.” Is all Anatole said in reply. </p><p> </p><p>“Hm.” Dolokhov nodded in response. </p><p> </p><p>The photo was stunning. You could see every crack of bark in the tree, paired with Dolokhov’s strong jaw. The camera was so close to Dolokhov’s face, you could see his individual eyelashes and his brown eyes in the dark of the night. His black hair was messy, and his lips chapped. </p><p>He looked tired, but who doesn't after a long day of work?</p><p> </p><p>“I look crazy. You can see the bags under my eyes!” He pointed to the dark circles that lay on his skin. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh hush, look at your eyes! Amazing.” He smiled at the photo. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, how about one last photo? The both of us. No posing for the camera or anything. Just us in the moment.”</p><p>Anatole said gazing into Dolokhov’s eyes, through the photo. </p><p>He looked at the real DOlokhov to await the answer. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sounds cool.” Dolokhov put his hands in his pockets again. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole raised the camera, and Dolokhov stepped next to him. </p><p>At first, Anatole was smiling for the camera. Then he turned his head towards Dolokhov and closed his eyes - leaned in close to kiss him on the cheek. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov could feel the smile on his face. It was at that moment he knew, Anatole definitely felt the same way he did. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole pressed his thumb on the button, and the camera clicked with a flash of light. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov watched as the photo slid out. </p><p>He didn't know what to say nor do in the moment. Anatole had kissed him! And sure, it was just on the cheek but still, any kind of affection Anatole gave to Dolokhov was a win in his book. Afraid he would ruin the moment, Dolokhov didn't dare say anything. He just stood, with his blushing cheeks and beating heart. </p><p> </p><p>Anatole lowered his arm to grab the photo.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at us!” He flashed the photo to Dolokhov, and smiled back at it while holding it in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah…” Dolokhov smiled from seeing his smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! I almost forgot!.” Anatole reached into his backpack, and pulled out a take out box. </p><p> </p><p>“I got you dessert.” </p><p>He gave the white box over to Dolokhov. </p><p> </p><p>“Anatole, you didn't have to do that.” </p><p>He opened the box to see a  big strawberry tart with small slices of strawberries on the sides, drizzled in liquid sugar. </p><p>
  <em> He knew the way to his heart.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You looked so exhausted, I had to buy you something to snack on.” </p><p> </p><p>Anatole began to walk Dolokhov back to his house. In between laughs, and bites of strawberry tart the boys would talk about the things happening in their lives. </p><p>==== </p><p> </p><p>They were approaching Dolokhov’s driveway, when Anatole slowed down his pace. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey so Dolokhov, I wanted to talk to you about something…” </p><p>Anatole began, he looked down at the concrete below him - occasionally kicking up some small pebbles.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah sure what is it? You can talk to me about anything Tole.” </p><p>Dolokhov sat his tart back in the tray. </p><p> </p><p>“It's about my mom.” Anatole’s voice became lower. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov knew Anatole’s mother was sick, and he knew that Anatole didn't like to talk about it that much. But he also knew how skilled Anatole was at hiding his true emotions. Truthfully, Dolokhov kind of forgot how bad Anatole’s mother was. When Anatole would update him on his mother's status, he would always just shrug it off, and pretend it was as bad as it seemed. </p><p>But now, he can't hide it anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Has she gotten any better from the last time?” </p><p>Dolokhov looked up at Anatole. </p><p>A tear began to roll down his eyes. Dolokhov had never seen Anatole cry before. </p><p> </p><p>“No, she um - “ He sniffed, wiping his nose. </p><p> </p><p>“They say she has about a month left.” </p><p>He glanced at Dolokhov. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Anatole...I - I’m sorry.” </p><p>He stopped walking and put his hand on Anatole’s arm, trying his best to console him in the moment. </p><p> </p><p>“If there's anything I can do to h - “ </p><p> </p><p>Anatole melted into Dolokhov. Fedya couldn't explain how a simple hug could feel so sad. Anatole wrapped around him tightly. Anatole had finally snapped. </p><p> </p><p>“She wants to go to Moscow - my mom…”</p><p>Anatole unwrapped himself from Dolokhov. His eyes dampened. </p><p> </p><p>“If she's going to pass, she wants to do so back home. She’s well enough where she can fly on a plane, and cancer isn't infectious so we don't have to worry about other people getting sick.” </p><p>He wiped his eyes with the hem of his shirt. </p><p> </p><p>“We leave first thing tomorrow….I don't know how long we’ll be staying, so we might not see each other for quite some time, Fedya.”</p><p> </p><p>A single tear rolled down Dolokhov’s cheek. The mix of emotions he was feeling right now, had him confused. He felt glad that Anatole finally expressed his emotions, and allowed himself to cry, but then there was the reason he was crying… Anatole possibly losing his mother; Dolokhov felt so terribly sorry for him. And then there was the feeling of abandonment. </p><p>He and Anatole just became friends not too long ago, and now he's leaving? Understandably so, but Dolokhov can't help what he felt. </p><p> </p><p>“Promise you'll facetime every now and then?” </p><p>More and more tear droplets rolled down Dolokhov’s cheeks, staining his shirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Whenever I can. It might be hard though, time zones ya know…” He chuckled a bit, regaining some normalcy. </p><p> </p><p>“Ha…” Now, Dolokhov was the one wiping his nose. </p><p>“...Yeah.” </p><p> </p><p>They hugged once more. Dolokhov made his way into his home, and Anatole watched as he closed the front door. </p><p> </p><p>Dolokhov set his tart on the kitchen table, and rested the Polaroid he took of Anatole Kuragina on top of it. </p><p> </p><p>====</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Tole, I know I never met her but I believe your mother would be proud of you.”</p><p>Dolokhov turned his head towards the blonde, who also was transported back to that summer night. </p><p> </p><p>“Thanks Fedya.” </p><p>He smiled, and set the picture back in the cardboard box.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had to give these two their own fic, cause it wasn't really essential to the plot of TGND but it provided some Anatole backstory that I just needed to put somewhere. </p><p>as always thanks for reading!<br/>~ Jordi</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>